


Come Inside

by brightowl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Creampie, Enthusiastic Consent, Firsts, Fluff and Smut, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn, Rimming, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Top Harry Potter, Topping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightowl/pseuds/brightowl
Summary: “Can I come inside you?" Harry asks, his voice a breathy whisper.And Draco nods, just once, ever so slightly, biting his plump bottom lip and looking deeply into Harry's eyes.At least, that’s how Harry imagined it going.





	Come Inside

**Author's Note:**

> During my two visits to Planned Parenthood, I was asked screening questions about Domestic Violence. I thought that was _awesome_ , so I included a similar question during Harry’s visit to the clinic. 
> 
> Thanks to my betas A & S for all of your time, help, and encouragement. And thank you SO much to my prompter and the mods for allowing me explore this very, very hot kink and the issues of consent surrounding it.

"Are you having any symptoms? Sores? Itching? Burning when you urinate?"

Harry coughed, looking down from the poster he had been studying. "Spattergroit Kills: Get vaccinated today," proclaimed a bold white font over a moving photograph of a middle-aged witch, seated tearfully next to the bed of her horribly disfigured son. 

"Er, no," Harry said. 

"Why are you getting tested today?" The Mediwitch was a tiny woman, barely a few years out of Hogwarts, in bright salmon robes, that made her round apple cheeks look especially flush. A sharp contrast to the calm, clinical tone with which she was interrogating Harry.

Harry swallowed, feeling himself blush. "Seemed like a good idea," he said, inwardly cringing as he recalled the conversation that had led him here. 

He had fantasized about it for weeks before he worked up the nerve to finally ask. As he'd lie in bed running his hand slowly up and down his cock, thinking about his recent liaisons with Draco, he'd imagine the two of them together, nude and face-to-face. 

_“Can I come inside you?" Harry asks, his voice a breathy whisper._

_And Draco nods, just once, ever so slightly, biting his plump bottom lip and looking deeply into Harry's eyes._

_Then, somehow, even though they’re lying on their sides with eight limbs between them, Harry slips inside Draco, and they rock sensuously, Harry filling Draco up, Draco crying out, "Harry," in a delicious, ecstatic sob as they come together at the exact same moment._

_And as they fall asleep like that—still intertwined, Harry still deep inside Draco—Draco murmurs, barely a whisper, “I’m yours, Harry.”_

Unfortunately, every time they were together, Harry found himself too nervous to ask—too keyed up to do anything to risk his orgasm, too afraid he might spook Draco into thinking they were moving too fast, too unsure of what it would mean for their bourgeoning relationship.

They’d always have a lovely time together—Harry didn’t really mind condoms, after all. In fact, they had several considerable advantages. Cleanup was easier, and the magical ones came with lovely perks such as vibrations, extra tightness, instant prep for bottoms, arousal enhancements, and even settings to stave off orgasm until the user said a ‘release’ word. 

Physically, pleasure-wise—at least with Ginny—Harry couldn’t even tell the difference between sex with and without the prophylactic.

But there was something that was impossible to explain—Harry wanted, more than it made sense, to come inside Draco. It wasn’t that he had any issue achieving orgasm, but ever since they had been dating, a possessive side of Harry, one that he had tamped down as a teenager, had reared its ugly head. Harry felt an overwhelming need to mark, to claim, to fill Draco with some part of himself. 

Maybe it was because of the way people looked at Draco. Because when they were in a club and no one could tell that Harry was the Boy Who Lived and Draco was the Boy Who Lost, his bright-blonde hair stood out, and everyone wanted to be him, wanted to be with him. And although they spent almost every Friday and Saturday night together, Draco had never made any allusion to any sort of commitment to Harry. 

It had been weighing on his mind for weeks. Finally, one day as he lain over Draco, humping into him his last few thrusts, knowing the words would bring about his orgasm, he blurted, “I want to come inside you.” 

Draco had ignored it in the moment, letting Harry collapse onto him, and pushing him off after about 30 seconds, as he normally did, with a beleaguered, “Can’t. Breathe. Crushed. By. Failed. Quidditch. Player!” 

Harry rolled off with a grunt and pulled off the condom with a snap. He tied the end and discarded it in a wad of tissue, and, as he was about to dispute any notion that he’d _failed_ at a professional Quidditch career, Draco interjected, “do you really want to come inside me, or was that just your orgasm talking?”

Harry’s mouth went dry. “If I did,” Harry said, sliding back into bed and wrestling some of the covers back from Draco, “would that be something—er, would you want to?” He leaned on his elbow, watching Draco’s expression carefully.

“That depends,” drawled Draco, who was flat on his back with the covers tucked around his waist, staring up at the ceiling. “Have you been tested recently?”

“Tested?” Harry asked, not daring to move—to cuddle up to Draco the way he normally would.

Draco scoffed. “Yes, Potter, _tested._ Swabbed. I know you’ve stuck your dick in the Weaselette, lord knows what other caves of ill repute it’s seen.”

“Oi!” Harry pinched Draco’s nipple. Draco batted him away. “When did you get tested?” Harry asked.

“I get tested quarterly. I practically have an account with the reproductive health annex. My cock is quite precious to me, Potter, I won’t treat it like a rusty galleon.” Draco glanced over at Harry, then rolled his eyes. “I’m judging by your vacant expression that you haven’t been recently. Or ever. I don’t want to know. Thank the gods for magical condoms. Well. If you want to come anywhere near my arse without one I expect a clean bill of health. I’m due for a visit anyway. I can make you an appointment. Keep yourself away from strangers in the meantime.” 

Harry was close to arguing—after all, Draco was only the second person Harry had ever slept with, and he was fairly certain that Ginny was a virgin when they were together, but… it was easier to just get tested than to discuss his lack of sexual experience. 

Especially when it seemed Draco was so experienced he practically had a punch card at the local health clinic.

And now Harry found himself alone, at that very clinic, answering some very intimate questions to a Mediwitch behind a clipboard. Harry knew she was just doing her job, even if inquiries like, “have you ever received or performed analingus?” made him squirm. 

“No,” he’d replied, _but I’d like to._

“Do you use any form of protection, magical or muggle?”

“My ex took potions for birth control. And I use magical condoms for anal sex. With men. Man. One man.”

“Are you currently monogamous, then?”

Why did she have to ask questions that Harry didn’t know the answer to? Harry scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Er, I am. With him. I think he is?”

“Does your partner know you’re here? Does he support you getting tested?”

“It was his idea.”

“Has your partner physically hurt you in any way or forced you to perform sexual acts against your will?”

“No, why—why would you ask me that? Is it because—”

“Harry,” she said, looking up from her clipboard, concern etched across her face. “We ask these questions of everyone. We want to make sure that you know that we are a safe place to get help if you need it. Do you need any help?”

Harry shook his head. “He’s never hurt me.”

The witch checked something off at the bottom of the parchment and smiled cordially. “The good news is, your risk-factors are extremely low. We’ll go ahead and run the full array tests of biological and magical infections. This’ll include a urine test, a cheek swab, and a magical blood draw. We’ll have your results to you by owl in 24-hours. Do you have any questions?” 

_How do I tell my partner that I want to be monogamous without him running for the hills or thinking I’m needy or ruining what we have when what we have is so fucking great?_

“Nope.” 

The tests themselves were fairly straight forward. First, Harry peed into a small glass vial, which he stoppered and sent up a chute beside the urinal. 

He was then escorted to a small exam room with seafoam green tiles on the floor and cream colored walls. It occurred to Harry, as the Mediwitch scraped the inside of his cheek with a tiny wooden stick, that he hadn’t seen linoleum in his entire time in the wizarding world. And while he’d certainly curled up on rugs on the common room floor, the ugly blue carpet that was characteristic of Muggle waiting rooms had never been underfoot in any magical establishment. 

“Lie down, please,” the Mediwitch instructed. She put the swab into a glass vial identical to the one he’d urinated into, and sent it up an equally identical pneumatic tube next to the exam-room sink. 

Harry lay down, the parchment on the exam table crinkling under his t-shirt. The witch flicked her wand and a third vial floated next to her head. She touched her wand to Harry’s wrist, and, without so much as a pin-prick, the floating vial filled with what Harry assumed was his own blood.

Harry was then sent on his way to await his results. 

As promised, the owl arrived while Harry was drinking his tea and pushing scrambled eggs around his plate the next day. Even though the Mediwitch had promised him low risk factors, and even though he was pretty sure neither Ginny nor Draco had given him anything, he still felt his stomach clench with anxiety when the owl dropped an envelope with the lime green seal of St Mungo’s. 

Harry slipped his butter knife under the seal and was happy to see “Negative” beside each item the list of thirteen diseases ranging from _herpes simplex: biological_ to _phaulius phallus: magical._ For some reason, however, knowing he was ‘clean’ did practically nothing to calm the tightness in his stomach. He was still just as nervous, just as anxious as before. 

Because now something was going to _happen_. 

He and Draco were taking a _step_. 

If someone had told him mere months ago that he’d be battling butterflies because he was going to find Draco Malfoy—the boy who bullied him, who reminded him of a more prejudiced, more dramatic, somehow more entitled Dudley Dursley—so irresistibly perfect that he was scared he might lose him, he’d have sent them to get their head examined. 

And yet here he was, more obsessed with Draco than he had been in sixth year. Things were easy with Draco in a way they hadn’t been with anyone since he dated Ginny the first time. Plus, Draco was a man, which Harry had since discovered was a non-negotiable. 

Yes, Harry told himself, all of this—this whole barebacking thing, this whole getting tested and not seeing any strangers—wasn’t about that smirk that Harry liked to kiss right off his face. It wasn’t about how Draco would rile him up until they were laughing or wrestling or fucking, and it definitely wasn’t about the strange unspoken understanding that they had about their shared history and what they had done for one another in their moments of deepest vulnerability—it was about nothing but Draco’s tight white tush. 

Harry repeated that to himself as he scratched a note to Draco. 

_All clear. Meet at pub 7pm?  
-HP _

When he hadn’t received a response fifteen minutes later, he dropped by Andromeda’s until Teddy’s midday nap, then headed to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes to see if Ron and George needed any help, which they never did, but they’d humor him since they knew he was often bored and listless during this long season between retiring from Quidditch and starting Auror training in the fall. 

“Looking for something?” Ron poked Harry in the back, startling him from staring out the window at the passing owls, hoping to catch a glimpse of Draco’s sooty owl Titania seeking him out. 

“Oh! Just expecting a note is all,” Harry said.

“Here?” Ron asked. 

“Actually, you’re right, I’ll be off,” he said and Apparated on the spot. 

After landing in his apartment, making and drinking two more cups of tea (and using the loo as many times), sweeping his kitchen the muggle way, magically re-organizing his closet by color, and straightening the cushions on his sofa at least three times, Harry finally was able to rush to the window when Titania rapped lightly against it at 4:34pm. 

Barely avoiding pulling her talons off, Harry tore at the parchment. 

_Skip the pub. I’m free now.  
-DM _

—————

No sooner had Draco opened the door of his flat than Harry was on him, kissing him, pulling him close, and massaging the cheeks of his arse through his trousers. 

Draco pushed the door closed behind Harry, allowing himself to be walked backwards into the hall. Harry reached down and tugged at Draco’s thighs as they kissed, signaling him to jump up. 

“Well?” Draco said, playing cool even as he held onto Harry, his legs wrapping tightly around Harry’s hips. “Where is that clean bill of health I was promised?” 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Harry said against Draco’s mouth. 

Draco threw his head back in a dramatic huff, which Harry took as an invitation to suck gently at a tendon in his neck. Harry settled Draco on the back of the sofa, so that he could run his hands up and down Draco’s thighs without having to hold him up. 

“Mmm,” Draco hummed, enjoying Harry’s ministrations. “I asked you first.”

“Back pocket,” Harry murmured, moving up to the pulse point under Draco’s jaw. 

Draco pushed Harry back. “You really brought your test results?” he said.

Harry felt a lick of humiliation coloring his face, and a flush of anger along with it. “I thought you wanted me to.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed, his gaze unreadable, and Harry suddenly backtracked, realizing he may have completely misread the situation. “It’s not a big deal,” he said hurriedly, “I’ll still wear a condom if you want. I mean, it’s just a test, probably a good idea anyway— ”

“Potter,” Draco interrupted, his hands on Harry’s chest. He leaned forward and kissed Harry gently for a moment, then pushed deeper, tongues touching, lips pulling against one another. Draco pressed his forehead against Harry’s. “Let’s go to bed.”

—————

Their bodies were beautifully matched. Harry was still more on the scrawny side; he’d had enough trouble keeping weight on for Quidditch, but now that he’d stopped playing, even with the regimen meant to keep him prepped for the the Auror program, he had returned to his thin self, knobbly knees and all. And Draco, an impressive half-an-inch taller, was what one might call lithe. His body had a natural grace, his muscles perfectly toned and proportioned to his long frame. 

Unlike Harry, who’s chest sported a soft dusting of black hair, Draco was mostly hairless, with smooth taut pecs and pert pink nipples. Harry straddled Draco’s hips, both of them naked to their pants, and ran his hands over Draco’s chest, smiling down at him. He felt excited, nervous, alight; even though they’d been doing this for months, it still felt like the first time. 

It was a first time, though, the first time there’d be nothing between them. 

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. There was something new that stretched between their soft gazes, that amorphous harbinger of intimacy— _trust_.

So much of the time they spent together, Harry recalled as he ran his thumbs around Draco’s nipples, was spent circling each other like wolves. Their sexual chemistry was undeniable, a strange but inevitable transition from the animosity that colored their youth. Every time they took a step forward, however—from their first kiss at a Quidditch stadium in Paris, to their first date at muggle bar in Berlin, to Draco agreeing to let Harry fuck him without a condom—their rapport was cloaked with sarcasm and waffling. Don't get too close. Don't agree too readily. Make him think he made the first move. Be ready to fight or run or pretend this was all a big fucking joke at any given time. 

And yet here Draco was, his eyes soft-lidded, his mouth parted on a heavy breath as Harry leaned forward to flick a nipple with his tongue. Stripped. Vulnerable.

Harry slid down the bed and tugged at Draco's pants. Draco lifted his hips so that Harry could pull them off, allowing Draco’s cock to spring out, hard but not straining. It was beautiful. It was always beautiful. 

“Hold your knees,” Harry said, and Draco moaned as he pulled his legs up, putting his arse and balls on full view for Harry. 

Harry kissed softly down Draco's cock, teasing, when an uncomfortable thought occurred to him. “Er, Draco?”

“What?” Draco's head snapped up from the pillow. 

Harry looked up at him, his stomach squirming, “when you asked me to, er, not see other people … did you, y’know, since your last test, did you sleep with anyone else?”

Draco's features were hardened still, schooled to not betray his feelings or emotions, but he still kept eye contact with Harry and shook his head, just once. 

Rather than smile goofily and allow Draco to see the joy and relief and excitement that Harry had at this prospect—was Draco his boyfriend now?—Harry took one of Draco's balls into his mouth and was rewarded with the sound of Draco's head falling back onto the pillow with a soft moan. 

Harry sucked gently on Draco's ball, then the other, then he pushed his sac slightly to the side and gently, so gently, licked the skin between Draco's sac and his thigh. 

“Fuck! Oh, fuck, Harry.”

Harry repeated the motion on the other side. 

Draco's head was twisted to the side, pressing into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. His knuckles were white as he held tight to the back of his thighs, keeping himself open for Harry. 

_Just you wait, babe._

Harry lightly kissed the strip of flesh beneath his balls, then, his heart fluttering, placed his mouth around Draco's arsehole, giving it a soft-mouthed wet kiss. 

Draco keened, high pitched and wild. 

Harry didn't quite know how to go about this, but if Draco's reaction so far was any indication, he couldn't really do it wrong. He kissed it again and again, sucking more with each press of his lips, feeling Draco begin to tremble with the force of trying to remain still. When Harry involved his tongue in the kissing, licking across Draco's hole, Draco began to let out soft little moans with every breath. 

Harry poked his tongue just inside, just as much as he could and, fuck, Draco was so warm and so tight, Harry had to reach down and adjust himself at the thought that with just a bit of lube, in just a few minutes, his cock would be in that tight, hot, wet hole. 

Harry's tongue swirled and licked and poked and kissed. Draco tasted like salt and sweat and Draco. 

“That feels amazing, Potter,” Draco gasped, “oh-ohhhhh.” 

Up on his elbows, Harry prised Draco's arse cheeks apart, pushing his tongue as deep as he could get it, then pulling it out to suck hard on Draco's rim. 

Harry realized he was involuntarily rubbing his crotch against the bed and knew he had to stop or this would all be over far too soon. He pressed his face into the back of Draco's thigh, kissing him, drying his face. He pulled his pants down and kicked them off as he crawled back over Draco. 

Draco let his legs fall and wrapped his arms around Harry, running his hands up and down Harry's back. Harry hardly had time to wonder whether Draco would be amenable to kissing after that, when Draco grabbed his head and pulled his mouth against his own, kissing Harry deep and wet, tongues pressing hard against one another. 

“I want you,” Harry said, rutting his cock against Draco's, kissing the side of his mouth, the hollow of his cheek, his sharp cheekbone. “I wanna be inside you.” 

“Then get on with it,” Draco said, panting. 

Harry sat back on his heels and rolled Draco onto his stomach. Draco pulled one knee up so that he was half on his side, holding a pillow under his head, his arse exposed for Harry. 

After leaning over to the night stand to retrieve a bottle of lube, Harry coated his fingers and began massaging up and down Draco's crack, rubbing the pads of his fingers against Draco's anus. He pressed his middle finger past the tight rim, easing it all the way in. Draco released a deep sigh, almost as if Harry was forcing the air from him. Harry thrust his finger slowly in and out, watching Draco's eyes flutter shut as he kept his body still and let Harry touch him. 

When his finger could slide easily inside, Harry added another, twisting them, massaging inside Draco. Draco trembled, ever so slightly, and Harry couldn't help but lean over and kiss his side, the soft place just above his hip. _You're mine,_ he thought, _you're just mine._

Harry started to spread his fingers, stretching Draco's rim a bit more each time. He remembered the first few times they'd done this. How patient Draco had been with him when he realized Harry had never been with a man. How he'd shown Harry just what he liked. How to open someone up with magic, without. He'd fingered himself, let Harry try, fingered Harry. He'd fucked Harry, slowly, just as much as Harry could take that first time, then rode him until they both came. 

“That’s enough,” Draco said, breathing heavily. 

Harry slipped his fingers out and lay down on top of Draco for a moment. He rubbed his cock in the slick crack between Draco's cheeks and bit lightly at Draco's earlobe. “You feel so good,” he whispered, using his breath to tickle Draco's ear. Draco shivered. 

Harry briefly considered pushing inside right here, like this, but it was his first time he’d be going into Draco bare and he really wanted to see it. He knelt behind Draco and Draco pushed up onto his hands and knees. Harry took the lube from the nightstand and coated his cock, reaching around to wipe the excess on Draco's cock with a few light strokes. 

Harry gripped Draco's arse cheeks, spreading them apart. His hole was pink and open, and Harry aimed his cock. It was difficult without using his hands, and the tip of his cock slipped across Draco's pucker a couple of times before it caught and Harry was able to push the head inside. 

Fuck. It didn't feel any different, really, but it looked so, so good—Draco's rim tight around the head of Harry's cock, Harry stretching it so wide. And nothing, nothing between them. Draco's arse clenched and Harry almost came right then and there. 

He pulled out, leaving his tip on Draco’s rim, then pushed in again, watching Draco's hole open and close around the head of his cock. 

He repeated the motion a few times—he’d never been so turned on in his entire life—until Draco groaned desperately. “Fuck me already!”

Harry realized Draco's arms were shaking a bit, a deep blush descending his neck and shoulders. He pressed forward and buried his cock all the way inside. 

They both moaned with relief. 

Harry started to thrust into Draco, back and forth, his thumbs holding Draco’s cheeks open. Harry tried to keep a nice even pace, to keep himself from coming too quickly, to keep from overdoing it, but he couldn't help himself. He sped up, his balls soon slapping against Draco's as he moved. 

“Do you have any idea how good you look?” Harry panted. “Taking my cock like this? Fuck, Draco.”

Draco dropped to his elbows, keening into the pillow in response. 

Harry could feel himself getting close, was about to implore Draco to touch himself, when Draco turned his head and said, “slow down a bit, just a bit.” 

Harry stopped, his cock sheathed, his hips all the way against Draco's arse. He focused on breathing, on staying still, and then folded forward, pressing his chest to Draco's back. He began to roll his hips, hardly pulling out on each roll, moving slowly, steadily. He kissed the back of Draco’s neck, licked his sweat. “This okay?”

Draco nodded into the pillow. “‘S good,” he said, moaning quietly now with each of Harry's thrusts. 

Balancing on one hand, Harry wrapped his other arm around Draco's chest. He played with each of Draco's nipples, rubbing and pinching, then moved lower, gripping Draco's cock and stroking in time with his thrusts, pulling the foreskin over the head and back down. 

Draco’s moans became louder, higher. “Okay, you can go faster.” 

Harry picked up his pace, grunting as each hard thrust pushed Draco closer to the bed until he was lying on his stomach, Harry poised over him, his face buried in Draco's hair, his cock hard and thrusting down into Draco’s tight, warm, beautiful, perfect arse.

Harry came. 

He felt it in his whole body, from the prickle in backs of his knees, to his toes curling against the sheets, to the hair standing on the back of his neck, down to his bollocks, so tight, emptying into Draco, filling him up. 

“Fuck! _Fuck,_ ” he shouted. He kept thrusting into Draco, over and over with each spurt of his cock, Draco’s hole slick and dripping.

Harry slipped out, watching his own come slide from Draco’s arsehole, and Draco whined at the loss, still humping into the bed. Harry’s heart was pounding, his breath still coming in heavy gasps. He gripped Draco’s hip and rolled him onto his back.

Draco’s face was flushed, his hair messy, his eyes unfocused. And his cock—his cock was shining red and straining up against his belly, his hand gripping it hard, stroking furiously to catch up with Harry. 

Pushing up Draco’s leg with one hand, Harry slipped two fingers back into Draco’s hole. He scooted down the bed, letting Draco’s leg fall onto his shoulder. He took Draco’s wrist softly, and guided it into his own hair, which Draco gripped instantly. He pushed Harry’s head down onto his crotch. 

As Harry prodded his fingers against Draco’s prostate, his own come coating them as they thrust in and out of Draco’s loose hole, he opened his mouth to take Draco’s cock all the way down. He’d certainly sucked Draco’s cock plenty of times before now, but always as foreplay, just to get him excited, never to make him come. Harry had never tasted come before, and even in his delirium from his orgasm, he couldn’t stop thinking about how badly he wanted to taste Draco’s, how much he wanted to swallow it. He could feel his mouth watering, his throat relaxing as he pushed his fingers harder and harder against Draco’s prostate as he sucked and sucked, taking Draco deeper and deeper until, with a whimper of “Harry,” Draco came. 

His body arched off the bed, nearly choking Harry, his arse clamping tight around Harry’s fingers, his cock emptying into Harry’s mouth. Harry tried to focus on swallowing, on the salty, chemical warmth of Draco’s spunk, even as he let Draco’s cock slip from his mouth, as it dribbled with the last shocks of his orgasm. 

Harry caught his breath and allowed himself to collapse forward, wiping his mouth and face onto Draco’s stomach. 

Draco’s hands still tangled in his hair, Harry maneuvered himself up the bed. He lay on his side and wrapped himself around Draco so he could press his ear to Draco's chest and feel Draco’s pulse and ragged breaths as he recovered. 

Just as he began to float away in the afterglow, remembering the sight of his come in Draco's arse, a horrible thought occurred to him. 

“Draco,” he said quietly, noticing how dry his mouth had gone. 

Draco grunted in response. 

“Do you—was this a one-time thing?”

“Hmm?” Draco's eyes were closed, his breathing slowing. Harry was glad they weren't looking at each other. He couldn't bear to have Draco see how red his face felt. 

“Now that we did this, do you want to go back to using condoms and—” Harry took a deep breath, dreading the question, “and seeing other people?” 

Draco huffed, pulling lightly on Harry's hair. “I think I can settle for your embarrassingly large cock for now. Now shut up and let me sleep, or I'll find someone who will.” 

Harry smiled against his skin. He squeezed Draco a little bit tighter, and kissed him lightly on his chest, right over his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, consent is sexy af. As much as I love seeing characters tear one another's clothes off, I think it's awesome that this fest is a chance to showcase the many aspects of enthusiastic, ongoing consent. I approached Draco's decision to bareback exactly as I approached unprotected sex in my own life, as a significant step, which required a clean bill of health. An epilogue of this story would include our happy couple returning to the clinic after six months for one final test to rule out any infections—such as HIV—that have a long incubation period. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic (my very first fest submission!) and I'm extremely grateful for your kudos and comments.


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